Waking General Kendra Eppie up early on a weekend was a remarkably daunting task. Even if he requested that early wake-up time, and promised he would remain calm and collected. 

Due to all the pain issues in his back, he often had a hard time falling asleep. Even when Freckles hid horse tranquilizers in the buttercream centres of his multi-coloured bedtime macarons. Once he was finally asleep, both he and his back wanted to stay there.

Freckles often told Eppie upon such requests, that this is what made waking him up so difficult. "I know how hard it is for you to fall asleep, and I hate waking you up because of that! Please don't make me. Your poor, poor back..." he'd say, but the truth was that he secretly loved it for this very reason. 

"Psst. Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey," Freckles would say gently as to not startle the General into his day. "Hey."

"What?? What the fuck? You fucking fuck! Go fuck yourself and fuck off while you're at it you little fuck!" Eppie would open his eyes saying, with a violent spasm of yawns.

"I made muffins..."

"Take your fucking muffins and shove them up your fu—what kind of muffins?"

"Bran. Your doctor said you need more fibre."

"Have him killed. Are there raisins?"

"Yes."

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck."

And thus began another fun-filled Saturday with Kendra Eppie. 

He had requested this early start because he had been given a hot tip that Vrume T'cha T'cha was up to something. It was time to get his Secret Force working a little harder than not at all. 

After news that Euphoria had been destroyed, reports came in that only a few ships had escaped. One was allegedly Vrume's. What an upstanding citizen like Vrume was doing at an establishment filled with criminals (at the time of its demise) was highly suspect. Eppie fantasized about taking a cigar trimmer to Vrume's wagging finger. 

He ate seven bran muffins, complaining about the raisins the entire time. This is why Freckles added them to his muffin batter. A complaining Eppie was an oddly content Eppie. Raisins would give him a good outlet, and distract him from complaining about anything else. 

He showered with Freckles, and they made love very, very quickly. He got his back brace on plus his uniform and ate three more muffins on his way out the door. Freckles was free to spend the rest of the morning watching game shows and relaxing. He enjoyed his day off, which was something The Node wouldn't have allowed if Eppie hadn't covered for him regularly (while sneaking in his own day off) each weekend. The Node hated vacation days.

He snacked on raisins. Not because he liked them either, but to give himself raisin breath for when Eppie returned.

When Eppie secretly arrived at the secret office of his Secret Force, only one secret agent was secretly there. His name was Erky Sands, and even he had only shown up because Freckles had given him the heads up the night before.

"Where is everybody else?" Eppie barked.

"Uh...it's a religious holiday," Erky lied, covering for his absentee co-workers.

"Religious holiday? Which one?" Eppie said slyly, wagging his own finger.

"Uh...it's Squambogian Mantis Widow Christmas."

"Is that a thing?"

"Sure."

"But none of them are Squambogian Mantis Widows..."

"Well not yet..."

Whenever Eppie didn't understand something, to save face he would change the subject. Erky knew this. 

"Fine. Vrume T'cha T'cha was seen leaving Euphoria. Find out why," Eppie said, changing the subject to save face.

"But Euphoria was destroyed," Erky replied.

"I know that!"

"So how could he have been seen leaving it if it isn't there anymore?"

"He left it before it was destroyed, you idiot."

"Ah."

"So, I want you to find out why. Ask around. See what you can find."

"Who am I going to ask? Euphoria was destroyed," Erky asked as he slumped into his wheelie desk chair.

"Other ships escaped, too!"

"Hmm. Well where is Vrume now?"

"Shouldn't you know that?? What am I paying you for?"

"Ok. That's fair."

"Thank you."

"Jeremy probably knows."

"Well then ask Jeremy. Where is he? Off for that holiday?"

"No. I think he's dead." 

"I just saw him yesterday."

"Oh. I don't know then."

"I hate you."

"For good reason. I'll call Jeremy. We'll figure this out. Don't you worry."

"Listen you little shit. I will give you an hour. One hour. Find another survivor fast. If you don't have information, I will not only fire you from this Secret Force, I will fire you from a cannon. Through a piano wire sieve and into space. After I eat your family. Do I make myself clear?"

"You're gonna eat my family?"

"Yep."

"But you can't. Not today."

"And why is that?"

"Religious holiday."

~~~

Every time K'ween thought that a tiny blip on her console screen was The Muse, it was a Blankton. As frustrating as this was, it was also just a little satisfying blowing them out of the sky. 

So far, she had blown up eleven of them. This was a very significant number, as it was as many Blanktons as she had drunkenly married in the past. She had only remained married to each for one night. None of them had survived the consummation. One last, glorious night for each of those sorry Blanktons. This was a period of K'ween's life she didn't talk about much. Not the murder part, just the marriage-to-a-Blankton part.

K'ween would not rest until she found those that had betrayed her, and those that would make her even more rich and powerful. That included the sexy little Quarol that had motivated her to challenge an entire science team to find a way she could survive his poisonous love. Whether he survived it was another matter entirely.

As she poured herself a very tall glass of Flettocian flubbfruit wine, she sighed loudly.  This volume of sigh was usually reserved for people smelling their own breath in the cup of their hand, or for people cleaning their smudgy glasses. All was quiet. She sighed louder and longer. 

"Something wrong?" Pannick finally asked, missing the attention-seeking intent of the first sigh.

"It's such a lonely business, being a ruler. Sometimes I think I should just find someone nice and settle down," she said with another sigh. She drank half of the glass of wine in one go.

"Really?" Pannick asked in insincere disbelief. 

"Oh! Wait! I think I'm thinking in the wrong direction," she epiphanized. "To be less lonely I need to be an even bigger ruler! If I play my cards right, I will overthrow The Node, and then I will never be lonely again! I will order people to be with me. I will order people to die in my bed, and everyone will want to!"

"How do you plan on overthrowing The Node?" Pannick asked, concerned K'ween would most definitely get them all killed (including the entire sisterhood of their Barbohdean moon).

"I don't know yet. But it will start with capturing the Topher and the Quarol. I'll have my way with the Quarol and then get the reward. With the reward comes the power. Power grows."

"What do you see in that pale little man? I don't get it. He's a little too...I dunno...gentle. "

"I like the way he tastes."

"Like Tractos poison..."

"Mmmm. Yes."

K'ween tilted her head towards a second, empty glass on the table next to her. She didn't feel like drinking alone, or apparently verbalizing an invitation. Pannick nodded back a nonverbal thank-you and poured herself a glass of wine, sitting next to her fearless leader. She drank the whole glass before K'ween could change her mind.

They both sat there and loudly sighed for a spell.

K'ween didn't realize that The Muse had been destroyed, and that those she searched for were now on a Shiv ship. It mattered not because she was paying close attention to every ship they came across, including a twelfth Blankton ship. 

"Shall I destroy it?" 

"Nah. Bring this Blankton to me. Use his ship for parts or something."

Off Pannick went, following these orders with an eye roll. K'ween sat quietly. She took a sip of her wine and sighed yet again, whispering to herself with a smile, "Yes. I'll be the new Node, and The Node is never lonely."

~~~

"I'm lonely," said The Node to an otherwise preoccupied Vrume T'cha T'cha. 

Vrume had barely made it back for The Node's cleaning (and haircut) and really wanted to be in his own ship looking for the prophesized duo. "Why don't you get yourself a girlfriend?" he asked, absentmindedly.

The Node scoffed at this. The idea seemed too absurd to him. "Do gods date? I think not," he thought to himself with a thought chuckle. 

"Where are you today?" The Node asked. "You're a thousand miles away. If you weren't the best, I'd have had you eaten for not being present while in my presence," he half-joked.

Vrume's assistant gulped. He was preparing himself for his big performance.

"Sorry, sorry. You're right. I just have so much on my mind. What with the beauty/detailing school and constantly trying to develop amazing new products to make you even shinier... I think I need a vacation," he said listlessly.

"Vacation??" The Node angrily bellowed. The word "vacation" made him furious. He didn't think anyone deserved one. Ever. He didn't even give one to his right-hand man General Kendra Eppie. He, however, did give Eppie and his toady Saturdays off for their apparent "groveling workshops".

"No, no. I'm not taking one. I'm just saying I'm a bit stressed. No biggie. I'll deal with it. Calm yourself. Stress causes wrinkles. Would you feel better if I killed my assistant?"

"Yes!" The Node shrieked.

Vrume fake-shot the assistant in the head, covering The Node with Squambogian brain cabbage and had the "body" dragged off. The assistant felt a sense of enormous pride in his acting ability.

"Thaaaaaaat's better," The Node said, calming down considerably. "You want stress? I have every bounty hunter in the known universe looking for a couple of idiots, and no one can find them! That is wrinkle-inducing stress right there, guy."

"What's so important about these two? They steal from you? Misquote you on social media? Look at you weird? Cough?" 

"No. It's this stupid Quarol. He has something of mine. Something very, very important to me. I don't know how he got it, but I'm going to get it back. Even if I have to tear apart all of space and time to find him."

"That is curious, indeed!" Vrume said, pepping up considerably with this new topic. "I haven't seen a Quarol in years!" he lied. "Knew this nice one once. He was on a book tour. Wrote a book about quantum galactic vacuum variable canine disorder. Didn't even know that was a thing. Still not sure it is, but he was very convincing. As was his really messed-up dog."

"Yes, that doesn't sound like a real thing," The Node agreed. He always felt less lonely around Vrume and his (tall?) tales. 

"He was a good lay, too. Had him in the self-help section of an Earth Mall bookstore. The Quarol that is, not the dog."

"Yes, yes. That'll happen," The Node said thinking about something else. He was thinking about Vrume's girlfriend idea. 

~~~

After all The Node's hairs had been cut, and all the smudges, scratches and tiny dents had been buffed and hammered out (and the brain cabbage had been dried and peeled off) Vrume wagged a finger and made him promise to take better care of his magnificent shiny, metallic chassis. He was then off as fast as he could be without causing any suspicion. 

As he made his way to his ship, he ran into Eppie, face-to-face. 

"Kenny. Good to see you," he said insincerely.

"Well, well, well," Eppie said back with a smug grin. "Speak of the devil and he's sure to appear."

This "Speak of the devil and he's sure to appear" Earth phrase was thought to have its origins in sixteenth century England as a fun (and fairly obvious) little reference to someone unexpectedly showing up when (or shortly after) being talked about. Variations included "Talk of the devil and see his horns" and "Talk of the devil and he's presently at your elbow." Though it was true that this is where and when it became popular, the actual original saying was "Talk of a Topher and he's soon kissing your arse" but was paraphrased and made more eloquent in 1666 by Italian writer Giovanni Torriano, who hated the one Towerscapian he had ever met and didn't want to give the bastard any free press.

"Oh there are many devils on Lyme Node, my dear Kenny. I should be the least of your worries," Vrume smiled smugly back. "I hear Weird Jimmy was spotted around here somewhere."

"You think you are soooo smart..." Eppie started.

"No, I just think you are soooo stupid, Kenny." Vrume laughed. Eppie didn't frighten him. 

"Oh, we'll see who has the last laugh. I am so close. So very, very close. I know you're up to something and I have my best man on it. And don't call me Kenny."

"I really doubt you have a best man at all. Kenny Kenny Kenny Kenny."

Eppie was so easily agitated and flustered. Deep down he knew he should never argue with anyone he couldn't have killed. He wasn't good at it. People disagreeing with him made him trip on his words and lose his place. It got worse the more agitated he got.

"You will, you are, you, you," he stammered, "You're gonna be in trouble! Erky found a Sammolite who left Euphoria moments before Euphoria was destroyed!"

"So?"

"Soooo, wise guy, this Sammolite saw you there. Saw you with an albino Quarol and a Topher just before he got on his ship! And he had just scanned Euphoria looking for his ex-girlfriend. He has a record of every ship that was parked there, and every species of alien."

"I find that hard to believe. A Sammolite with a girlfriend?"

"He is an uncommonly handsome Sammolite."

"Very uncommon. I would like to see this guy."

"Grew a nice beard. Bright puce highlights... anyway, neither here nor there. Once Erky gets me that downloaded record I can prove that you were there. Aaand I can prove that the Quarol and the Topher were there with you. Aaaaaand I will get that uncommonly handsome Sammolite to rat you out to The Node. Then I will enjoy watching The Node skin you alive for years."

Eppie walked away before Vrume could get another word in, feeling as though he had won this round. He hadn't, however. He had made a flustered mistake and used a specific secret name.

Before getting back to his ship, Vrume hunted down the only Erky on Lyme Node and destroyed all of his computers and snapped his lazy neck. 

His hunt for Potto and Aye would have to wait just a little longer. He had an uncommonly handsome bearded Sammolite to hunt down first.

~~~

Of all the bounty hunters looking for Potto and Aye, the massive reptilian Jorge Jorge Jorge was the only one ahead of them. 

K'ween may have been headed in the right direction, Mel Million Max may have been closing in on them, various Blanktons may have been zipping around aimlessly like cosmic midge flies, and various others may have been searching every nook and cranny from Lyme Node to the ghost of Euphoria , but none were ahead of them and waiting. Just Jorge Jorge Jorge and his tiny toddler girl voice.

His preferred method of capture was ambush. He hid amongst the ruins of the long-gone inventor (and failed megalomaniac) Emperor Reginald Zophricaties' long lost satellite station over the lifeless planet of Vex 7. It was only one light year past the over-priced bungalows of Vex 4.

The Quarol and the Topher would surely stop on Vex 4 for a fuel up. It had the only fuel station in the Vex sector (which was on the way to almost every destination) and it was the last one for a long, long while. 

It was in these ruins that Jorge Jorge Jorge found Zophricaties' lab. It was still (mostly) in one piece. Inside that lab, and stinking of long-gone Blanktons and Yayghers, sat the Master Cloner. To his astonishment (and with a new power cell from his ship), the huge and problematic cloning machine started up. 

Within hours Jorge Jorge Jorge had an army of genetically inferior (but just as terrifyingly large) Jorge Jorge Jorges at the ready.